


Dancing the Blues Away

by tea_addiction



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Dancing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Politics, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, boyfriend - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_addiction/pseuds/tea_addiction
Summary: When Bucky is feeling down about the twenty-first century, Steve decides that the best way to cheer him up is to ask him for a dance.





	Dancing the Blues Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lindsayistired](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindsayistired/gifts).



> I wrote this about a year ago for my friend's birthday, and finally got around to typing it up and posting it because we all need some pure, happy Stucky in this time of Endgame turmoil.

It was hard for Bucky to get back into the swing of normal, not-brainwashed-assassin everyday life. Between the constant suspicion towards everyone and everything and the extreme cultural changes from the 1930s to the 2010s, Bucky barely had any time to breathe. When he did have time to breathe however, well… this happened:

Bucky was sitting on his bed that he shared with Steve. Of all the changes that occurred, it was almost laughable that the fact that he and Steve shared a bed was one of the only constants. That was why it was Bucky’s go to place when the twenty-first century was especially overwhelming. To be honest, Bucky didn’t think “overwhelming” was a strong enough word for his reactions to the changes. 

His multitude of therapists had given him innumerable methods to help make reintegration into modern day society easier; his favorite of which was grouping. He was pretty sure it also had some fancy medical name, but he didn’t bother remembering all the different names for the different methods. 

This one involved breaking up the new objects, ideas, or other things into categories. The shrink had suggested groupings such as “food,” “science,” and “social,” as well as more than several others, but Bucky decided to create his own labels. 

His went something more like “fucking finally,” “what the fuck,” and “who fucking cares,” though his therapist preferred relabeling them “good,” “bad,” and “neutral.” Bucky refused to call them those lame-ass names. 

Today he had been a pretty terrible day for Bucky’s new experiences, the new entries onto the wtf list being forty-two time greater than the entries onto the other two lists combined. This came from the fact that today had been the day SHIELD had decided to introduce him to current American politicians. 

How the fuck did almost a hundred years pass and yet some idiots (who Bucky had some… choice words for) were still stuck in the mindsets of people from medieval times? And the fact that people are just blatantly denying proven facts almost made Bucky regret fighting a war for this goddamn country in the first place. Okay, he’ll give it to the people who think Canada is a made up place - that’s hilarious, but that’s it. 

So here Bucky ended up, on the one constant in his life, his shared bed, thinking about cheeto troll dolls, lizard people, and serials killers that operated in Northern California during the sixties and seventies. Bucky had a vague recollection of meeting that last one once, and for all he could remember, he would much rather have the actual Zodiac Killer as a serious politician. 

As Bucky was going over the arguments from both sides of the “abortion discussion” again, (another for the wtf list; why the fuck should old white men have a say in procedures that are easily the best option for many women?) Steve managed to sneak his way into the room without disturbing his boyfriend. 

Silently, Steve placed what what he was carrying on the counter and came up behind Bucky. Wrapping his arms around the older man, Steve rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder and whispered, “Hey Buck.”

Bucky ginned for nearly the first time that day. “Hey punk.”

Smiling back at the ex-assassin, Steve pulled the two of them from a sitting position to one where they were both lying down, Bucky’s ear on top of Steve’s chest to hear his heartbeat, arms wrapped around each other. 

One of Bucky’s favorite traits about Steve was his uncanny ability to read Bucky’s emotions like an open book, something many others had tried and failed at. It was also why Bucky was without a doubt that Steve could tell he had had a terrible day. Also because Steve asked him, “want to talk about what made today so awful?” and Bucky did. 

“Politicians are traitor snakes.” 

Steve snorted at the comment. “And you’re only just now figuring this out?” 

Bucky pouted. “Today’s politicians are all shit. Like in the last election it was a choice between lying scum and racist asshole scum. What kind of options are those?!”

Steve started to sit up, Bucky whining at him but giving in pretty easily. “I think I have an idea to get mine off of twenty-first century politics, unless you enjoy dwelling on how fucked our country is.”

Bucky turned to look at Steve who was walking over to the package he had brought in earlier. Bucky watched carefully as Steve opened the box, pulling out something shielded from view by Steve’s dorito torso (that was one of Stark’s observations that Bucky didn’t mind.) 

Steve was still fumbling around in the box until he seemed to find what he was looking for. Turning around to face Bucky, Steve grinned just as Bucky heard the opening notes to Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood” played on a saxophone. 

“No fucking way, you got us a record player!” 

Steve beamed but didn’t respond. Instead, he walked calmly over to Bucky and held out his hand. “Mr. Barnes, may I have this dance?”

Bucky’s returned grin stretched form one side of the world to the other as he extended his own hand to meet with Steve’s. 

“Why of course Mr. Rogers, it would be my pleasure.” 

With this, Steve pulled Bucky up off the bed and placed his hands gently on Bucky’s hips. Bucky rested his arms on Steve’s shoulders, the super soldier not even noticing the initial chill of metal on skin. Both men laughed as they danced around the room, twirling and dipping each other as deemed fit. Many toes were trodden on that evening, but neither participant cared. 

As the night began to draw to a close, the couples’ dancing had become a more stationary sway, With Bucky’s face resting on Steve. “Remember dancing to this with all the girls we brought home back before all of this?” Bucky asked quietly into Steve’s ear.

“‘Course I do Buck, how could I forget? It was the only record either of us ever owned! We always had to borrow Mrs. Nelson’s player when we wanted to listen to it.” 

Bucky chuckled, “And by the time I left for the war, you couldn’t even hear half the music because it had been played so many times.” Steve just smiled. 

Later, after both super soldiers had tired out, they had decided to go to bed. They were in the same position as before, with Bucky’s head resting on Steve’s chest. Steve was mindlessly running his hand through Bucky’s hair, combing out the loose knots, as Bucky was reminiscing on the day. 

The twenty-first century could definitely be stressful, but he would always have Steve. 

Bucky’s thought from earlier was wrong; the constant wasn’t them sharing a bed, they were the constant. Steve and Bucky: always together. 

And with that, Bucky drifted off to sleep.


End file.
